


The Visceral Bonds

by Castorre



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: 4.0 spoilers, Abuse, Blood, Blood Kink, Bodily Fluids, Brain Surgery, Dubious Consent, Edgeplay, Elevator Sex, F/M, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Implied/Referenced Torture, Knifeplay, Medical Torture, Object Insertion, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn With Plot, Rough Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2018-12-18 10:16:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11872245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castorre/pseuds/Castorre
Summary: Long after the battle for Ala Mhigo’s liberation, the Warrior of Light finds herself unable to let go of the prospect of ‘what if’. That charming smile, that sultry voice, if only it had been another time, another place, perhaps they could have been friends, or more… But she was left alone, the only person who knew of her loneliness, taken by his own hand.And yet, his resonance has left a mark on her. An unending fantasy that, at night, reemerges, reforms, and metes retribution upon her mind and body. The question of ‘what if’ is not truly if, but ‘when’ and ‘how hard’, at least in her dreams...A collection of one shots related to Zenos’ unending thirst for the WoL. Certain kinks may be more triggering than others. I invite you to skip any kink that makes you uncomfortable and go on to the next.





	1. Swordplay

**Author's Note:**

> I'm using this collection of one shots as a way to further my skills in writing. I hope to grow by challenging myself to topics and writing styles that I have never done before. If you have any constructive comments, feel free to leave them!

An airy gasp escaped plump lips, hands large enough to wrap round her neck held her down, pinning her against the ground. She felt the force of the Viceroy’s strength against her chest, his left arm held her in place as he drew the Ame-no-Habakiri from its revolving sheath. A look of fear marked her face; the overbearing weight of his body as he straddled her legs left her no freedom of movement, no retreat.

 

A sly smirk crossed his features, eyes narrowing as he brought the sword towards her. The blade slid horizontally against her flesh, the cold steel sending goosebumps springing to the surface of her skin. He turned the blade upwards, opening up her vestments as easily as one would open a letter. Armored fingers drew to her body, the gauntlets pushing aside the now ruined garments that had draped her curves.

 

Zenos sat the sword off to the side, both of his hands coming to grip at the flesh of her breasts. She recoiled, eyes widening, as the cold metal dug into her tender skin. She cried smally, her mouth opening with pleading words and quivering lips.

 

“Hah hah, you beg already, girl… We have not even truly begun yet.” He brought his face low against her chest, taking a breast into his mouth to run his tongue along the culmination of her form. Toes curled as his hair brushed over her stomach, his lips forming suction around her nipple. She dug her fingers into that blond hair, the soft tendrils grazed her skin. She grasped at a handful of it when he bit down on her breast, his canines pierced her areolae. Her grip on his head tightened, the feeling of warm liquid dripping down her under breast alarming her.

 

His tongue ran over the liquid, lapping it all up. A dark laugh manifested from the bottom of his throat. He pulled his face away from her, digging his fingers into her wrist so she would release his hair. She ripped her arm away from him before glancing down to see the damage he had done to her poor tit.

 

“Gods, you bastard.” She had very distinct teeth marks, two of which wept blood from the force of his bite. She wiped at herself with gentle movements of her fingertips; glancing down at it, a sour expression came to bear against him.

 

“Oh, do not tell me something as minute as that gives you reason to pause?” Tongue met lips as he brushed the remaining traces of her blood from his mouth. His eyelashes fluttered quickly, as if he enjoyed the taste. The Warrior of Light gave him an obvious look of disgust. Baring his teeth again, his voice broke in his throat, the swelling need for her body filled his mind, “I wonder… you do like toys, do you not?”

 

Toys? She would have voiced that if the answer had not been presented nearly immediately. Fear grew to panic as he retrieved Ame-no-Habakiri, her mouth begged him again, pleaded him not to do it. Yet, he tilted his head, a firm stare piercing her as he moved from her legs. She would have immediately catapulted herself away from him had he not anticipated it by trapping her neck under his grasp. He pulled her up by the throat, her squirming and whining doing naught but encouraging him to continue.

 

He leaned into her, taking her mouth forcefully, The fact that he didn’t close his eyes while doing so only disturbed her more. He glared into her eyes, a taunting look traded wordlessly between them, to remind her that she was most definitely still his prey. He squeezed her throat, gauntlets once again breaking flesh as the pointed tips burrowed into her. She withstood the pain, though her hands came to grasp at his wrist.

 

Nearly silent moans escaped him as he took dominion of her mouth. His tongue slid against hers, the warm wetness welcomed in earnest. He caressed her tongue, the gentle sliding of the two meeting was uncharacteristic of him. He was not a gentle person. The prince withdrew from her mouth, a trail of saliva connected their lips until he slammed her back down on the floor. The hardness of the floor resulted in a pain filled cry and the warrior seeing stars.

 

“Good, writhe in pain under me…” He leaned over her, removing his grip from her neck. She brought her hands to her forehead, the pain of hitting the floor in such a way resonated throughout her skull. She slipped several profanities in his direction, through trembling fingers seeking to massage the ache from her head. Her words were met with a simple chuckle, his eyes falling back on her face. “A beast like you has the audacity to speak to me in such a way?”

 

“Go fuck yourself.” She lifted her hands, half-closed eyes grimaced from the ringing in her ears. Zenos’ eyes told her she said the wrong thing, the glacial glower matched with his omnipresent frown sent a chill up her spine. A swift motion of the hand brought Ame-no-Habakiri to her throat, the blade pressed cooly against her taut skin. Eyes widened in a look of desperation, her lips brought the pleading back to him. “Z-zenos, please.”

  
“And now, you beg me so innocently. I may have given into you had you not been so brazen.” The blond grabbed a handful of her hair, stretching her neck further. The sharpened blade ran over her skin, so quickly that it felt as nothing. A shallow cut in the side of her neck dribbled blood onto her clavicle. Whimpers of terror escaped her, the grip he held on her scalp causing her greater pain than the wound.

 

The sword returned to her flesh, resting in between her trembling lips. Teeth bared at her again, and the blade drew much more slowly across the tender skin. The flesh split from cheek to cheek, only a minor wound, but the taste of blood seeped into her mouth. He removed the sword, her hand instantly coming up to cover her mouth. He snatched her hand away, earning cries of disapproval from his beast. Blood smeared across her fingers, a detail that the prince noticed near immediately. Her wrist, captured by his grasp, was pulled towards him. The heat of his tongue traveled across her slender fingers. At times, he stopped to suckle on the delicate digits, cleansing the lifeblood from her hand completely.

 

“Ah, what will it take to make you scream, Eikon slayer?” He released her hand, her bloodied face, filled with fear and pain causing him to sweat. His mouth draws a breath, before he leans back into her, their lips colliding again. The warrior cries out as Zenos’ tongue lashes the wounds at the corners of her mouth. She finds no skin to pierce with her nails, so instead she aims to grab locks of his hair again. Her discontent with him culminates in sharp fingernails against his scalp, her hands attempting to drag him away from her face by the hair.

 

A pleasured grunt escaped his mouth. She did little harm to him through pulling his hair, if anything it made him want her to do it more.

 

“Yes, by all means, keep doing that. You so desperately wish to hurt me, to strike back at me, don’t you?” His tongue swept across his lips, ragged breaths racked his frame, though much of it was hidden beneath his armor. His free hand shuffled down to his waist, buckles unlatching the middle section of his armor. He tossed it away, metallic clanking distanced itself as it rolled noisily into a corner. He tilted Ame-no-Habakiri again, this time, against the undersides of her breasts. She shook her head, releasing her hold on his hair to attempt to push him away. The blade of the katana sliced her flesh so easily, the finely sharpened edge allowing for the shallowest of wounds. It still drew blood, for why else would he commit to this play if not for the blood?

 

Of all the things she had endured, this was fairly mild. Yet, the humiliation of this monster’s blade coming against her again and again, as if she were a piece of meat… that was the worst. Or so she believed, until he grasped his shaft firmly, pulling free of his linen pants. She hissed in pain, his gauntlets grabbing her hair and yanking her towards him.

 

“Come now, beast.” She fell into his lap, her battered body colliding painfully against his legs. A howl of pain racked her as Zenos tightened his grip on her hair. He took the opportunity to thrust into her mouth, the head of his shaft slammed into her. He pushed his hips forward, his hardened cock filling out the space quite easily. Cruel and hungry, he leaned over her, his grip guiding her over him roughly. Whining exuded from her mouth, along with a trail of saliva exchanged from her tongue to his flesh. “Keep going, j-just so!”

 

She squeezed her eyes shut, the Viceroy pushed her head into his groin repeatedly, quickening, harder, and faster again. A retch sounded in the back of her throat as he hit her gag reflex multiple times. She fought the urge to vomit, yet he continued to thrust without care, without restraint. His moans were erotic, inhales and exhales ragged, throaty. Drool slid from his lips, landing amidst her hair. Her eyes drifted up, glaring at him, but their eyes did not meet, no. The quiet of the room was broken by their combined cries. His back arched, eyes clenched tightly, he hissed her name hotly through parted lips.

 

His eyes fell back to her, the distant glaze of euphoria coated the blue that glanced unto her. His grip left her hair, instead, fingers slid down to her chin, prompting her to let his body free from hers. Oh gods, the feeling of her warm mouth felt almost like his natural resting place. But no, he had other plans, _other_ entertainment he wanted to partake in. Her lips released him, along with deep breaths and a sigh. She weakly lifted herself from his lap, droplets of blood had fallen from her chest and smeared against his armor in various places.

 

“Take everything else off. Do not make me remove it for you, or I will make you suffer.” Zenos glared at her, meeting a defiant gaze from his pet. And yet, he still held that sword so close by, she did not wish to earn that kind of ire again. His hand traveled over the thick shaft, his body struggling to contain its load while he waited for her to become wholly nude. “Could you not be so slow, you fil-filthy… a-ahh…”

 

His knees parted more against the ground, hips jutted out with his cock resting against the leather padding of his palm. Precum leaked against his hand, gathering into a small pool in the center. A most glorious idea struck him, one to punish her for her daring to disobey. Though she had picked up the speed of removing her shoes and small clothes, it wasn't fast enough to satisfy him. He kneaded at the head of his shaft, eliciting cries of pleasure again. Several deeper moans linked together, until his eyes shot open fully, his seed flowed into the pool of his palm. “A-ah, you dirty savage, look what you made me do…”

 

She grimaced, knowing he was likely about to force the thick liquid into her mouth. Yet, he looked elsewhere, to something else that was a far worse thought.

 

Ame-no-Habakiri… it rested right beside him. His face lit up in that same devilish visage as when he had taken control of Shinryu. That look of crazed depravity that set off every alarm in her mind. For all her speed, there was naught she could do to stop him from grabbing onto her; knowing she had likely already understood his intent, he preemptively held her in place by forcing his knee across her navel. He needed both hands after all…

 

His free hand retrieved the sword, placing the handle into the palm of his hand which he had ejaculated upon. Viscous liquid coated the handle, and a look of intense pleasure crossed his face, seemingly just from the thoughts of his next actions.

 

“Ready yourself. I'm going to make you scream like the beast you are.” Defile. Destroy. Dominate. _Humiliate_. Yes, yes YES. A cackle of gross enjoyment passed his mouth as she squirmed beneath him.

 

“Gods, Zenos, please! Don't!” All her begging earned her was him parting her legs, metal met her labia. She cried out as the abundantly wet flesh parted itself. Without word or warning, he pressed the back end of the sword against her, using his index and middle fingers to straddle her opening, to widen it. The blade facing the floor, he manipulated her body so that she might allow the handle into her. Pleading turned into cries as the angular object was forced down her most intimate area. He removed his knee from her, satisfied that she was in far too much shock to try and pry herself away at this point. Her brow furrowed, wetness leaking at the edge of her eyelashes. The slightly curved handle pressed against the topmost muscles inside of her, gaining more squirms as it passed over a most pleasurable spot multiple times.

 

“Are you used to it yet? It’s not quite that bad, is it?” Ugh. Only Zenos would equate shoving an antique sword inside of her as ‘not quite that bad’. She balled her fists, ready to raise her torso to strike him, yet, he thrust the sword the rest of the way to the hilt, slamming it against her cervix. He got what he wanted, a loud scream that pierced the quiet of the room. The prince grinned, glancing over her expression of pain and anger. “Ah, this is making me hard again. Hurry up and get off so I can unload inside of you.”

 

Bared teeth gnashed at him, eyes filled with rage, the rage of being used like a piece of furniture filled her chest. God, she hated this man. But no matter what he did to her, he always gave her an orgasm; that was part of his subjugation of his pet, after all. Sweat beaded down his brow, his arm carried forth a faster, shallower pace with the weapon, pushing it back and forth against the roof of her hole. He brought his face low again, cheek leaning against the soft flesh of her pelvis. His tongue traced lines over her clit, gaining her hands back to his hair, attempting to push him away. The high pitched whines of her throat met the otherwise silent ambience of the room. Gods, she was already so close…

 

Lips formed suction round her her, pulling the clit taut against his tongue. He had earned his name to be passed through her lips in such a way. So beastial, so base as to cry out the name of her master with drool trailing her chin and dripping to her neck. He removed himself completely, the sword too, flung away haphazardly. He did not care if the handle was ruined from her bodily fluids, it could always be fixed. No, right now there was only this, only himself and his prey.

 

Her fingers left his soft hair, the only thing soft about the bastard at all. He repositioned himself, pulling her legs to straddle his hips. She was more than wet enough for him, already splayed from the handle that she may easily accept it. There was no sound that she spit out that was more arousing than the ones when he entered her. It was a different type of sound, deep and, perhaps, filled with shame. He leaned over her, coming to look upon her face as his body crashed upon hers as a roaring wave.

 

“Z-zenos… my lord…” A genuine smile met her words, his face lightened as he took her lips, a tender kiss placed upon those warm plots of flesh. Moans intertwined unto each other and before long, she had reached her limit, begging and flailing and whispering soft words to him, hoping for the same in return. He relinquished his coldness, lips trailing to her ear as he pushed against her core deeply, a hand rubbing gently at her vulva.

 

“My pet, pray do not ever leave me. You are the only joy I have in this world…” His words cut, for her orgasm dragged him further in, clenching him tightly until he cried out in his own. Ragged breaths died down as their pleasure passed, his armored fingers brushed her cheek, petting her softly.

 

“Good girl…”

  


   

  
  



	2. Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The content in this chapter is potentially triggering via abuse. If you find content containing physical and emotional abuse particularly disturbing, this chapter may trigger you. If you find content containing dubious consent particularly disturbing, this chapter may trigger you.

Summer on the Steppe was sweltering, sending Xaela and travelers alike plummeting into the many bodies of water strewn throughout the land. One such traveler happened to be a Warrior of Light, keen on washing off a few day’s travel from her weary, dry skin; even if it meant bathing under only torch and moon light.

 Having left the fires of the Mol camp, the warrior decided that she would not lie in her cot to sleep until every square ilm of herself had been scrubbed. A bucket of water complimented with extracts and soap foamed at the edge of the water; a rag barely held together after much use, washing and reusing, floated on the surface.

 She glanced about, the same feeling of uneasiness that had haunted her for nearly a day and a half returned. She kneeled near the bucket, the soap lather from her hair slid down her bare back. A cautious glance felt necessary yet again, the goosebumps rising not from cold wash water but from the feeling of being watched - of being hunted. Perhaps she was simply on edge, after all, this trip was overly long, beginning with a month long trip on a pirating vessel and culminating most recently in a nice set of scars that lined her lower back and shoulder blades. The dull ache still lingered in those wounds, even a week hence, with aetherial healing.

 Her hair properly lathered, she returned to the water, drifting in far enough to hold the back of her head under to rinse the suds away. A feeling of peace came over her again, as if the tension, the worries, the fears all melted away with every part of herself she cleansed. She floated backwards, hair spreading out here and there midst the vigorous scrubbing of her fingers against her scalp. She let out a sigh before returning to plant her feet on the bottom of the fresh water spring. Water poured over her face, as she guided herself back to the edge of the spring, her lids shutting tight to avoid the burning of excess water in the eyes.

 Her fingers reached for the dry towel awaiting her, though all she felt was grass, bucket, grass… And then the sound of something heavy falling into the water sent the chill down her spine into full on panic. She turned, eyes shooting open to try and spot anything in what limited light she had. There was nothing, no movement of the water from anywhere near herself. Perhaps it had just been a fish, or a large rock falling in. Her mind was playing tricks on her, fooling her into fearing the nothingness that sought to find her.

 She pulled herself to the edge of the land, sitting upon the small stool she brought for herself along with the bucket. She closed her eyes briefly, bringing her hand to her chest, an attempt to calm her heart, which beat boldly against the frame of her bones. Her legs sat in the shallow water still, calves and feet and toes submerged in darkened water. She reached for the hair clip pinched to the side of the bucket, bringing it up to pull her hair back from her neck so that she may dry it.

 Her eyes flitted back open, the feeling of dread returned full force. She glanced back to the water, as a pair of eyes stared straight back at her through her parted legs. The pale eyes, full of naught but the reflection of distant light and nothingness drew her breath full away. There was no time to scream, only the hands of this other person closing in on her calves and dragging her off the stool and into the water. There was no release, no clawing at the ground to pull herself away. Her open mouth found only the taste of water, her skin, the feel of a rush of bubbles and the force of the other person’s rough guidance against her bare skin.

 They pressed their hand against her throat, one large hand nearly enough to fully wrap around her delicate neck. So drowning or choking was the way she was going to go? She tried to fight back, digging her nails into any flesh she found - though all she could pick out in her panic was a blur of light-colored skin and a large frame to take stabs at. She brought her hands up to pull at the other’s grip against her throat. Salty tears defiled the fresh water, her physical strength far outclassed by whomever the assailant was. Her eyes widened, feeling the air in her lungs coming to a swift end. Just as she thought she may actually die, just as she felt fear truly latch onto her, her attacker launched her upper half out of the water, their hand leaving her throat to land on her hip, opposite its twin.

 Her back hit the stony merging of water and land, though her lower body was held far too firmly for her to attempt escape. She opened her mouth to scream but found water and foam to spit instead. The gargling of her throat more important to cleanse than the urge to scream - though that would follow behind quickly, lest something more repugnant than choking happen to her. A turn of her body, allowed by whomever had hold on her, took her to her knees, the racking coughs to rid herself of the water in her throat followed.

 The back of her neck felt the hovering hand of her attacker, the little hairs like static until they were crushed against her skin and theirs, palm and fingers wrapping lightly against her flesh. Again, her mouth opened to scream, yet all that came was a belly-aching gurgle of sound, water, and spit. Though it felt as if it were the last she would need purge. Sense returned to her in little chunks, one alarm in her mind changing for another, signalling her body to fight back, this time against the external rather than internal threat.

 She leaned forward and then reared back with the full force of her hips, seeking to slam her tailbone into the most vulnerable area she could find. Instead, she rammed full force into two very strong thighs. She spat curses, the force of her body colliding with what felt like a wall of muscle jarred the scars on her lower back, stretching the stitching holding the wounds together painfully.

 “Continue on like the beast you are, I enjoy seeing your fruitless struggle.” Fingers traced over the ragged edge of her lower wounds, a voice as unforgettable as the throes of death sent her mind racing. ‘I have to get away, I have to _run_ ’, she grunted, attempts to swing her arm behind to elbow him were met with his grasping hands catching her. “Keep going, until I tire of it, at least.”

 “W-why are you here? You followed me?” Stupid questions, both of them. But nothing else would blurt out except those. That and whimpers of anger; anger that she hadn’t heeded her own intuition earlier.

 “What other reason could there be? You have piqued my interests, beast. Interests that lay dormant for many years.” His hand released her arm, immediately grabbing the closest breast he could find to fondle roughly. He squeezed at the flesh and pulled at the nipple, earning himself a side eye filled with disgust and all the verbal dissent that went with it. “Your urge to fight does not grow with how I touch you? I had heard you savages were fond of forced unions but I did not truly believe it…”

 “T-that’s sickening! Of course you Garleans would believe something so unabashedly vile!” Her hand met his on top of her breast, sharp nails digging into the flesh of his hand until skin severed and the many vessels of blood streamed to the surface. It brought a chuckle to his lips, the paltry bleeding only encouraging him.

 “Pathetic. So this is all you can muster without a weapon?.” He sighed, his eyes closing for a moment to consider his actions. “Perhaps a more aggressive approach is necessary. I did give you the chance to escape had you fought back properly.”

 She opened her mouth to profane him, but lost her words to a howl of pain as he dug his nails into her scalp. Another scream escaped her lips, the force of his grip pulled at the muscles in her neck, her shoulders and body following too slowly to keep up with every yank she received.

 “Now girl, prostrate yourself in front of me. Bend to your master’s will. For if you are so weak as this, you are naught but mine to own.” She let out a whimper and did as he bade her to, laying face first against the grass and sand. That skin-crawling chuckle manifested again. She could feel his gaze upon her back, till his hands were laid against her hips to grab. “Keep your face on the ground.”

 He pulled her hips up, propping her on her knees, she knew what he was thinking fairly quickly. Large fingers probed between her thighs, to the spot that caused her to gasp; lips parting in silence, in shock. One finger entered, to feel against the walls, to see if she could host him without preparation. He frowned, cold eyes narrowing as he attempted to insert a second finger, her body would not accept it easily. Yet, he managed to press it inside, her legs objecting to him with kicks and heels aimed at him.

 “Be still, would you?” He planted his free hand between her shoulder blades, pressing her further against the ground. She hissed, her breasts squeezed against the stones and grass. He moved the two fingers as far as they would go, testing, feeling, earning squirms and pleading from his captive. Her words, her begging was naught but incentive for him to go further, to push her to break. The tips of his fingers searched, eyes watched her intently for any reaction other than the mild annoyance his probing seemed to cause her. “Where is it?”

 “W-where is what?” Her lips trembled, trying to refrain from the moans of pleasure that his fingers pressing against her walls caused.

 “A rhetorical question, do not concern yourself.” If he didn’t get her a little wet, there was nary a chance of him entering her, not without ripping either himself or her. Torn genitals were something he’d prefer to avoid, despite his impatience with her body. His fingers stroked up and down against the wall closest to her core, feeling for the sacred spot that when finally pressed against, sent a loud gasp through her. His hand moved from her back to her hair, pulling her face from the dirt so that he may glance upon at least one side of her features while he massaged her. “You look quite content. A little dirty, perhaps, but content. Do you _enjoy_ this? Your enemy is becoming as familiar with your body as you are, and nary a ‘no’ or a ‘please stop’.”

 “M-mayhaps I am not the person you thought I was?”

 “No, you are just as I thought. So willing to submit to me. So willing to submit to the one person you cannot best.” He removed both of his fingers, reentering with just one, to the spot that had sent the air flooding into her lungs from his touch. He pressed the pad of his finger there firmly, finally rubbing forcefully, rotating, revolving, and returning. Over and over again, circles, small and large; dips against the muscle, strong presses, light passes. Until the very sound from her throat was lost, only deep breaths and the sound of her wet flesh against his hand could be heard. He trailed his fingers from inside of her, moving to rub light circles and twist at her clit.

 She brought her own hands to lay against her head, capturing hair in her fingers. She didn’t know what to do with herself, she was restraining the moans of pleasure and the screams of horror that she was enjoying this. How could she enjoy such a person, how could she enjoy being called a beast? But every passing thought since Rhalgr’s Reach, every invasively arousing idea had been about the man under that Garlean armor. The man she could not conquer, the person who looked at her as naught but an animal to leash… “Oh gods, why do you mock me?”

 He had pulled his hand away as he felt her inner muscles contract. He leaned over her, his body grazing hers, sending a shock up her spine. Lips landed on her ear, nibbling at the helix. Hands lay on the sides of her neck, thumbs brushing the sensitive hairs there coupled with his tongue moving to lick the inner folds of her ear. _That_ earned him a loud moan of approval, her back arching.

 “You will only orgasm when I let you. Until then, you will heed my commands. If you do release, I will punish you.” His words were so close to her ear, despite his incredibly quiet voice, the demands he meted out so sternly made her only more willing to obey him. She felt one hand release her neck, coming back to brush between their bodies. Cries of pleasure escaped her when two fingers dug into her, pulling thick wetness out with them. His hand returned upwards. “Open your mouth.”

 She hesitated, a look of disgust crossed her face. His opposite hand moved up to under her cheeks, forcing her mouth open. His fingers, coated in the liquid, entered her mouth, rubbing against her tongue. She tried to wrench her jaw away from his hold, the taste was not awful, yet his nails dug into her tender flesh. She mouthed a mostly garbled ‘ow ow ow’.

 Digits slid from her mouth, releasing the jarring hold on her face as well. It did not give her comfort however, it just meant that the Prince had thought of something else to amuse himself with. He used her backend as a support to come to his feet, to tower over her more than he already did.

 “Come now, to your knees.” Fingers brushed against the top of her head, in an uncharacteristically gentle manner. He slid the stool she had been using previously towards her with his foot  “You may need that.”

 “For?” Her eyes narrowed, but only briefly. A quick motion of his hand, one not even directly meant for her, caused her alarm. She set the the stool upright again and placed her knees atop it, assuming he meant for her to reach his groin.

 “Have I struck fear into you?” His mouth and eyes curved into a smirk, he came around to her front, his fingers finding her mouth again. He stroked her lips with his thumb, the tender flesh yielded to the slight pressure of his touch. “Perhaps even a beast such as you can be tamed. I had thought that perhaps the only way to enjoy you would be to fight you repeatedly, until you finally acquired the strength necessary to properly challenge me.”

 He knelt in front of her, meeting her gaze with his. She wanted to lean into him, to touch those broad shoulders, to feel the warmth of his body. Her mind wanted so badly to romanticize the way she felt about him, to somehow twist him into a decent person. Why else would she want to hold him, if not for affection or attention? Why would she want the attention of a murderer, a man who knew nothing but death as his only enjoyment?

 “Well? I could tame you. You could be my pet, my little lap beast.” He caught her face in his hands, stroking both thumbs lightly against her cheeks. She caught her breath as he leaned in, his lips landing on her forehead, a gentle kiss as any she had ever felt graced the skin there. Her cheeks flushed, eyes widening at the warm wave of affection that seemed to make her heart swell. She pulled her face away from his hands, only to plant herself in the crook of his neck. Her fingers traced lines down his side, light motions that tensed his muscles.

 “I would sit in your lap so long as you pet me gently every now and again.”

 “I’ll tell you what I’ll do to you…” He pushed her away from him, the closeness of her body drawing his mind too close to a dangerous realization about his feelings. He would not accept such emotions, not him, no. He pressed his hand beneath her chin, raising her face that they may gaze upon each other again. “Take me into your mouth first, however.”

 She looked away, unsure, almost skittish. His free hand grabbed her by the hair again, earning a loud cry of surprise. He took the opportunity of her parted lips to press the head of the shaft against her tongue, his hand holding her head in place. She recoiled instinctively, but gained no leeway neath his firm grip.

 “Open, girl. You’ll take me whether it is forced or not.” His sharpened canines shewn through a wicked grin, “I’m sure you’d rather choose the speed and depth at which you take me, lest I shove myself down your throat so far that you choke.”

 She let out an agitated grunt before pressing her mouth around his shaft, using a hand to press at the base to guide it. Her tongue curled beside, under, lapped and rubbed at him. He held her hair firm in his hand, but no longer painfully so. Strands of wet hair stuck to her face, her cheeks pulling taut with every thrust of her mouth against him. The Viceroy let out a staggered moan, almost silent in how quiet it was.

 “Look up at me.” His eyes hungered, to see hers, to see her as his body filled her mouth full. She looked up to him, those clear eyes, so full of hope and defiance, gleaming purely in the light of the moon. Oh how he wanted to destroy that innocence. He craved it more than anything, to watch the defiance leave her as she accepted her weakness. Then, _then_ she would fight him like the creature she was meant to be.

 He withheld the urge to thrust, the muscles in his back and thighs tensing. He was much too large to force on her all at once. Her lips continued to close and travel over the thick shaft, her saliva coating the flesh and sending chills up his spine. Her right hand stroked the base of his cock, trying to make up for what length she couldn’t comfortably take. His eyes narrowed, breaths deep and ragged as she gave him pleasure he had not allowed himself in some time. A few moments of much of the same, sucking, licking, nibbling, kissing, fondling - all directed at the sensitive head and upper shaft made him wish he had placed himself against something to prop upon. “Tch…”

 The sounds he was making seemed to be those of annoyance. She wondered if she was doing something wrong. Perhaps being too light of touch or too shallow with the licks. Yet, his body tensed suddenly, his hand releasing her hair to push upon the crown of her head. His hold kept her from pulling away; his other hand and his body moved to force himself free of her mouth. Her lips were puffy and swollen from the continuous sucking. Her mouth remained open, tongue curled up at the tip, ready to receive.

 “Y-yes, stay like that. Look up at me and let me watch you- hng…” He stroked the shaft in place of removing it from her mouth. His face alluded to the pleasure he felt, her eyes watching every silent gasp he mouthed and every contortion of his face into one of ecstacy. He bit his lower lip, eyes more expressive than he seemed capable of. They looked over her, and grew wide as his orgasm overcame him. Warm, thick liquid flowed into her mouth, her tongue coated in the cum until it flowed over. “Don’t let it spill out, girl. Swallow it.”

 She shrugged and did so without issue, without the gagging or unsightly faces he expected her to make. Her mouth reopened, most of the seminal fluids swallowed easily.

 “Oh, I did not take you to be one who enjoyed such things.” He knelt again, in front of her, mostly to mock her. “You did it so well, too. I wonder, how many others have you done this with? Was it a prerequisite to joining your little squad of adventurers?”

 She leaned closer to him, her mouth opening, as if to respond, but, she rolled her tongue up, a slight bit of cum still pooled in the front of her mouth. She spit it into his face, his eyes widening as he realized the insult he had just been given. “Just you, _my lord_. You and your tactless mouth, your repugnant personality”

 His face relaxed back into the same emotionless dull stare it normally was. Though, that dull stare was capable of inciting fear, or as it so unfortunately did to her, make her thighs wet.

 “You are quite mouthy for a dog.” He backhanded her, striking her across the face hard enough to send her stumbling from the stool. A cry of surprise followed as he planted his foot on her throat. “You would be wasteful with the seed I give you? I thought perhaps you would like it in your mouth over my filling your womb to the brim. Now you’ve angered me, however…”

 He pressed his foot against her throat harder, causing her to squirm and whine. The fear in her eyes wasn’t enough, however. He wanted to see her cry, see her beg him on her knees for mercy. He twisted the ball of his foot against her flesh, pushing down until no air could enter her lungs. She dug her nails into his foot, gasping for air, her eyes pleading to him to release her.

 “Not so defiant when you’re under heel, are you?” He finally stepped off of her when tears manifested, rolling thick lines down her cheeks. He knelt next to her, grabbing her up by the throat to a sitting position. There was no more attempts at being even remotely light of touch. Every ilm of flesh he touched was abused in some way. After a few moments of roughing her up, digging his fingertips into her neck, into her breasts, tearing at the flesh of her shoulders with teeth, probing as many fingers as possible into as many holes as possible, he relented. She gasped through the pain, pushed onto her side by the hands of the Garlean leaving her. “All it takes to tame a beast is to humiliate them. I could inflict far more violent acts upon your body than what I have done tonight. Remember my mercy only extends so far, however.”

 She gasped still, mouth agape, simply trying to come to her senses. His hand came to lay back upon her hip, causing her to flinch. _Good_. She associated his touch with pain. The first step to respect was fear. The second step, was to confuse her by being loving.

 He laid his lips upon the back of her neck, bringing a hand to her chin to guide her head how he wanted to as he kissed her. Again, he trailed his lips against her, placing kisses along her neck up to her ear. “Do you want to feel me inside of you?”

 Just those words brought redness to her cheeks. And yet, he was already moving to assume that position. She wanted to pull away from him, yet his hands laid upon her gently, lifting her thighs up and apart. He was already aroused again, most likely from the punishment he had given her.

 For the last time, two fingers entered her, pulling out a good wetness. He rubbed it down his shaft, coating it. He was surprised, she had not dried any at all while he was swatting her. Perhaps she enjoyed it more than she let on.

 “You’re so wet, shouldn’t be hard to go all the way in.” He grinned, aligning his body with hers, his knees against the ground with her rear propped between his thighs.

 “P-please be caref-” A scream spit the quiet air as he pressed inside of her, the head of his shaft struggled against her muscles, but eventually found headway through to her core. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and he moved to assuage her.

 “Quiet, now. No need to make that sort of sound.” He stroked the side of her face, playing that game of affection that only confused her all the more. Her mouth opened for quiet squeaks and moans as he pressed on, his hips leaning inwards to guide more. Her body refused to yield to him, until he got frustrated, forcing himself down. She stifled another scream, biting down on her lip, his nails digging into the ground beneath her.

 He pulled himself some from her body. Though, he did feel her yield somewhat as he returned on the forward thrust. He picked up the pace, pushing with his hips against her, each increase in speed earning moans of louder or longer quality.

 He glanced down, at the joining of their bodies. He stopped, his eyes widening.

 “I should have known when you didn’t question my methods… you are, or were, a virgin.” He ran a finger down to his shaft, pulling a string of blood up to show her. She flinched a bit, her chest rising and falling sharply. A toothy smile came to face her. Of course, he was going to mock her for that. “My my, I did not think… mm, no matter.”

 He placed his hands on her hips, guiding himself forward and back. Her cries of pain were matched with squirming, digging at the ground and near flailing. He did not expect her to react in such a way. He thrusted again, once, twice, he was met with resistance, but found it odd, he was not very far inside of her to warrant hitting her cervix. He pushed further that time, earning himself some cries of pain.

 “I suppose I mustn’t allow myself to seem inept…” Zenos grabbed her up from under her arms, pulling her to sit upon his lap. The sudden closeness of his face made the Warrior flush hot in the cheeks. He smirked, eyes darkening, “a first-timer. I wonder how fast I can make you orgasm.”

 “Like this? Never. All you can manage is blood.” His smirk only grew into a toothy, shite-eating grin upon hearing her retort.

 “Such a fiery spirit,” his lips brushed her chin, his breath rolling down her neck. He dragged his lips to hers, planting an open mouthed kiss upon her. His dominant hand slid to hold the back of her head as he pushed his tongue over hers. She grunted, fully disgusted in herself, but oh gods, how she enjoyed the taste of his body. She pressed her tongue under his, savoring him, savoring a moment so wrong… and yet, that very reason made her so excited, so aroused.

 He laid back against the ground, pulling her close against his chest. He toyed with her hair and grazed his lips over hers again and again, occasionally pressing his tongue back against hers, until he finally pulled away. Her head felt hazy from the slow and passionate kissing. And he didn’t give her any time to recover before he pressed his lips to her neck and covered her skin there in red marks. Fingers dragged through his hair as he made his Warrior whimper in pleasure. Oh, how easy she was to excite. She practically melted into his hands at even just the slightest touch.

 “Ride me. Now.” The Prince relaxed against the grass, his hands sliding to her ass to push her. “I’ll even be generous enough to guide you through.”

 “B-but, I-”

 “First, slide down…”

 “I know how to-”

 “Then. Do. It.” His eyes pierced her; that biting tone of voice commanded her yet again. How easy it was to follow such a voice…

 She glanced back, which helped very little considering what she was attempting. Hesitantly, she pushed down, blindly searching.

 “You frustrate me, girl.” He positioned himself below her before pressing her hips down. With a cry of pain, she hosted him again. This time, however, he was not so lenient as to allow her to acclimate to him. She tried to deny him by fighting with her hips against his motions, but he simply overpowered her.

 He had toyed with his prey long enough. And he hadn’t the time to waste on her deciding if screwing the enemy was within her realm of morals or not. Quickly and forcefully, he thrusted his hips upwards and pulled hers down to meet him. Her reactions to the speed and depth with which he plunged into her were most delicious. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders, drawing blood. Her cries were louder than before, more breathy and ragged. And her face! That beautiful face that Zenos would never admit to finding attractive - how her eyes welled with tears from the pain made him even more aroused.

 “Z-zenos, please!” Her fingers grasped into him, trying to hold on as his thrusting became more erratic.

 “Did you say ‘more, please’? Very well.” He slammed himself in to her limit, once, twice. She screamed in agony, and out of reflex balled her hand into a fist and slammed it into his face. That paused his thrusting, as one swipe of his hand against his nose told him that he was bleeding but not broken. “Next time, hit me like you mean it. Or else, what is the point?”

 He pushed her off and rose to his knees. He half-thought about returning her gesture to her. Yet, he refused to scar her face; after all, he had to preserve what was _his_.

 She turned, weakly, her body feeling the abuse she had sustained most noticeably. She was too exhausted to fight back. Her core hurt, her limbs ached from his bites and bruises, and her heart burned in anger at herself for allowing this to happen.

 “One last try.” He pulled her to her knees and spread her legs again, and again he pressed into her. At this point, she was too tired to deny him. Too sore to move her body against his or to pull away. He leaned over her, wrapping his arms across her chest, trapping her in the warmth of his body.

 She could feel the shallow flow of blood from his nose drip onto the back of her neck. It made her recoil a bit, but his hold trapped her from any movement. It may feel like a hug, but it was just a powerplay to keep her from fighting any more. Not like she had the energy.

 “You’re a monster.” Her lips trembled. She hated her conflicted feelings, her inability to fight him. She hated him.

 He didn’t reply, as if confirming what she said as fact. He buried his face into her neck as he picked up pace again. He rutted with her less forcefully this time, his shaft slowly pushing inwards despite how painful his throbbing cock was. Zenos sucked in air through gritted teeth, stray tendrils of his hair, dyed blood red, stuck to his upper lip.

 Deep breaths caught in his throat and he picked up pace a bit. He pressed his cock against her wall, searching for that sacred spot again. And his finger trailed down, to target her clit. How disgusting it was that he could pleasure her so. As he traced gentle lines over her clit and glanced her g-spot repeatedly, she could feel the pressure building.

 “Uhn, fuck.” He salivated against her neck as he pressed his teeth onto her flesh. He became slightly more erratic again, but restrained himself from hurting her anymore. “Come on me girl. Let me feel you tighten around me and take my seed.”

 She intended to reply with ‘go die, bastard’, but instead, found her voice taken as he pressed his hand against her windpipe. Eyes widened in fear, in anxiety. He clutched her throat so tightly that all air was cut off from her. She craned her head, her mouth begging for air. One hand choking her, the other teasing her, and he thrusted purposefully within.

 He was so, so close to it. And he was intent on giving his favorite little Eorzean a nice thick shot of his cum as a parting gift. Over and over, he pushed in, till finally he met her core again. The way her body fit him so snuggly made him mad with lust. He moaned audibly, paying no attention to her fingernails cutting into his hand as she attempted to free herself from him.

 He grabbed her thigh and lifted her leg off the ground. Suddenly, the position had changed, and her body was so close to the edge that it hurt. She spat pleading words at him, barely intelligible words that broke in the air under his moans.

 Her body suddenly froze in pleasure, her muscles tensing and toes curling. He lost his grip on her neck as her body milked him of his orgasm with her own. He pulled out of her slowly, making sure he left a nice creamy mess as his mark on her.

 “A-haha. Yes!” He wiped at his nose, pushing away the blood crusted hair from his mouth. “Not awful. But I’ll have to teach you the correct way later, my cute little beast.”

 She pulled away from him, her legs unsteady from her climax. She could feel the heat of his gaze on her face; and when she turned to glance at him, she noticed that at least he wasn’t leaving this unscathed. She shot him a perturbed glare, angry that he had brought her to orgasm. Angry that he assumed he could partake of her whenever he pleased.

 “Next time, perhaps we should use a bed. That way you don’t end up as absolutely filthy as you currently are.”

 “There is no next time, bastard!” She hissed, her eyes dangerously close to watering.

 Zenos knelt down in front of her, taking her chin into his hand. His thumb brushed her lower lip again, and she held back from biting it, if only to not be slapped again.

 “Tell me, who would have you? Can you look your companions in the eyes guilt free, knowing what you’ve done? No matter how you delude yourself, I saw the pining in your eyes. I saw how desperately you wanted me.” He left her, choosing to stand over her, his hand pressing into her hair. .

 “I’ll entertain you in Ala Mhigo when next we meet. Perhaps I shall have a collar fitted so that you may better fit the role of a leashed bitch at my feet. Now, sleep.”

 A red mist choked her of air, the staggering force of it sent her crawling across the ground to escape its hold. It took her breath so easily and without warning she was on the ground, face planted into the grass.

 How easily he had defiled her. Though at least in the heat of the moment he refrained from completely ruining her. His long fingers traced the scars on her lower back; the scars that he had given her not long ago in Yanxia. A laugh caught in his throat as he used the resonance to erase her scars, erase her pains. But it would never erase her guilt. That, only, belonged to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello~ Thank you for reading if you made it through to the end of that chapter! It's quite long and not the easiest thing to read, though I know I didn't go very in depth as far as abusive situations go. I found it to be an incredibly hard piece to write, if only because of the similarity that the Warrior of Light faced to situations I have faced in real life. Writing is an outlet for me, for creativity, for depression, for my past. Don't worry however~ the next chapter is a much lighter, more playful piece that is more or less the opposite of this one. Thank you for all of your comments and kudos, I would probably not push myself to continue if not for knowing that there are people who actually enjoy reading my work. So thank you again!


	3. Confinement Pt. 1

A haze, dread, and a blurry mirage filled with dizzy images racked her mind. She felt as if she had been in this place before; been in this situation before. And her body buzzed, begging her to escape, begging her to adjust her mind and her legs so she could just. Get. Out.

 Her legs wobbled, so unsteady and so uncertain that she would barely dare to tiptoe away from her current spot. The weakness darkened her sight, and her hands pulled trails of gum-like red from her middle. Everything felt like a nightmare, one of those terrors after being given medication to sleep. But she could not rouse her mind or her body. Perhaps this was reality? This cold, dark void filled with distortions of her own face and the voices of people long since dead.

 “Wake up!”

     “Wake up, Warrior!”

           “My friend, you must not give in!”

                 “Hear… feel…”

 A pain rapped at the back of her skull. Tapping its way into her brain until it felt like it spread to all the lobes of her mind. She screamed, but no sound came. Though her throat strained, the only sound was that of the tormenting silence.

 And then, finally, into unconsciousness she drifted further… so far that the aches of merging dreams and reality no longer reached her. And for a moon she remained so, finally resting.

 “Awake at last, _friend_?” The cold indifference in that voice shot her eyes open. And she found her arms and legs bound to a table as cold and metal as him. The Prince of Garlemald stood over her, staring over her naked form. He gave a smirk, his teeth bared for a half-second before he leaned over to stare at her face. “How do you feel, girl?”

 She shuddered as his gloved fingers trailed over her clavicle to her neck and finally to rest at her chin. The Warrior of Light, whose eyes had always been so full of fight, now looked back at Zenos with a dying light. As if he had taken all of the spark from her and ground it into nothing and then attempted to give it back to her, as if he had not destroyed everything about it to begin with.

 “The pain is a fleeting thing, so do not fear.” He brought his lips closer to her face, her eyes glaring at him, watching every move he made. He caught her cheeks in his palms, digging metal into her flesh, though she refused to cry out. He took her mouth, arrogantly pushing his tongue through her lips. She attempted to pull away, yet he caught her lower lip with his teeth, biting until it drew small marks of blood. And, a headbutt to boot. His laugh was so cold it sent chills down her spine. “Mm, good, you haven’t changed at all.”

 He stood up, straightening his posture. Once again, fingers ran over her body, down to her toes, until he pulled away and left without a word. The door shutting with the sound of metal latching unto metal. And finally, the snap of a lock.

 She shivered, the room actually was cold. And her metal bed did little to insulate her. Her brain still vibrated with pain, shooting pain that sometimes felt all over her skull.

 Wait… beds aren’t made of metal, so she thought. Nor are bedrooms so sterile and white. Her eyes darted around: a machine to monitor her heart rate, a steel pole with a bag of clear liquids being fed through a line into her arm, no windows, no decor of any type… She tried to kick at nothing, hoping the restraints on her ankles would break. But no such luck.

 Someone would surely come to free her. Zenos himself would come back to torment her. She told herself that, and yet, she stayed, stuck to that metal table for what felt like an eternity. Her eyes flicked to the dripping of the saline bag, watching it trickle down the line. It held her attention for a brief moment, maddening her further at her isolation.

 Finally, she attempted to just sleep, hoping to pass some hours to escape the crushing feeling of being alone. But, she had never had such an issue with solitude, so why now? Her mind seemed to flicker at the thought, as if a suppressed memory hoped to show itself. Yet it fizzled out before it reached her consciousness.

 What felt like days of solitude passed with periodic lapses in her memory. She struggled with the overbearing sadness that filled her from the lack of contact with anyone. At last, she resorted to crying out and yelling, begging for anyone to come, even if for just a few seconds.

 After more time, after she had long since exhausted herself from shouting, _he_ came. He stood over her, once again, his hand sweeping up to her cheek. This time, however, he was mostly out of his armor.

 “You look dreadful,” he leaned over, pushing her face to the side to examine her, “As if you’ve not rested at all.”

 “I can’t sleep.” Her dreams offered her no comfort, and her waking moments were agonizingly lonely. “I would rather die than exist how you have me, trapped.”

 “I have not trapped you, girl.” He sighed, a look of pity on his face. “T’were I to trap you. It would be in my bed, however, you are not yet well enough.”

 “Why must you leave me alone then? I hate it!” She grimaced, trying to tear from her bonds again.

 “I thought you would prefer not to see me. After all, is it not I whom you loathe most of all? Surely you remember what happened…” He leaned over her, glancing into her eyes before releasing her wrists from the leather bonds.

 “I would take your presence over none at all at this point. Please, pray do not leave me here again! You don’t understand how agonizing it is!” She clung to the arm of his sleeved shirt, unwilling to let go. Zenos leaned into her, wrapping his free arm around her before pushing her away.

 “Stop the dramatics. And do put on some clothes. I would prefer your body be for mine eyes only.” He unlatched her ankles and pointed towards a bin in the corner. “Put it on.”

 She dug through the bin, finding just a bathrobe. She held it up, giving him a questioning look. Zenos simply grinned, crossing his arms as if to say ‘hurry up’. A sigh parted her lips and she donned the robe, one that was too ill-fitting to actually have been meant for her. If anything, it looked more like it was meant for the man standing opposite of her.

 “Come now, you did say you wished to be _kept company_ did you not?” He moved his hand in a signal, again, saying ‘hurry up’. Damn, did this woman not know what an erection was?

 She slid the robe over herself, a bundle of extra fabric drooping at her feet and in various other places. The Prince stifled a laugh and moved for the door; meanwhile, she glared a hole through the back of his head. She attempted to follow him through the door, but forgot about the saline bag and pole attached to her arm. She cursed and ripped the tape from her arm, gaining another curse as it ripped a few hairs with it. The line went with it, and soon she was chasing after the man, who had not looked back to make sure she was following.

 Her footsteps echoed quickly behind him, hurrying to catch up. Why? She didn’t know. It was as if this man were all she had left in the world. Despite her memories of previous friends, of Lyse, Alphinaud, Alisae… it was as if they no longer seemed reachable. So she attempted to forget them. Again.

 She glanced about. The darkened grey and red tones, and the sounds of shifting metal encompassed everything around them.

 “I would guess we aren’t in Ala Mhigo any longer?” Her eyes set on him, watching the smooth ways his shoulder blades and the muscles of his back moved beneath his top.

 “You finally noticed. No, there was no viable way to stay. Not if I were to protect you.” A blush came to her face as he spoke that word - _protect_. The way he said it made her warm under the robe.

 Yet, what did he have to protect her from? And why was she with him to begin with? Did she not defeat Shinryu? Did he not attempt to take his own life? After that, everything was so blurry, so pieced together she could barely understand a thing.

 “So, where are we then?”

 “You will know soon enough. Once I’ve _inspected_ you.”

 He suddenly came to a full stop on the inside of two shuttered doors. She hesitated to be confined to such a space with him, yet, to not be alone, that was worth going in, right? She slid into the box, an elevator, of course. It seemed to be used for a singular purpose, as it had no buttons to denote floors or anything else.

 “Full stop.” And, on cue, the chamber slid to a halt. However, the doors did not open and Zenos made to grab her.

 “W-what are you doing?” The warrior attempted to pull away, yet found his large hands grabbing her by the oversized robe.

 “Inspecting you, as I said before.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A cliffhanger pointing towards elevator smut? HOW DARE I! 
> 
> Now that my writing hibernation is over, I bring you a (dark) multi-parter! 
> 
> Just as a forewarning, the next part of this contains descriptions of medical torture. So if that is not your thing, please don't get invested!


	4. Confinement Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Warrior of Light continues her spiral into dreams within dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains descriptions of medical torture and surgery, along with blood, dissociation and brain trauma. Be warned!

“G-gods, it’s too big!” The Warrior gasped, the feeling of the much bigger man’s body stretching her open radiated a dry pain. He held her against the wall and his thighs, propping her rear on the handrail of the elevator. Zenos had been in such a hurry to join with her, that he had only undone his belt and the buttons of his pants, leaving all of his clothing on.

“You act as if you’ve not taken me before.” He grunted, his tongue tracing his lips in need. He wanted to pound into her so badly that his thighs quivered in anticipation. Yet, she was still weak, still healing. And he wouldn’t destroy his little beast so quickly. He had invested  _ too much _ into her to end her so swiftly. “U-uhn, so tight!”

He slid slowly into her, muscle yielding to muscle, her body parting for his. With it brought her nails to carve into his flesh much the same way he forged forward into hers. His hips began the thrusting that came so naturally, so fluid. And along with her nails came her voice, to serenade him in a pain-filled melody of cries, moans and pleading.

With each thrust, his speed or intensity increased. He moved his hands to her thighs, gaining enough of a hold on her between the wall and his body that she wouldn’t fall. Each thrust took him further, into the hot, wet fold that culminated in an impassable wall. And when he struck it the first time, she screamed in the most deliciously visceral way. She spat curses at him, her nails balling locks of his hair into her fists.

His breath drew hot on her neck, his panting obvious as he slowed his rutting. He wasn’t done, not by a long shot. But, his pet fought against him fang and claw - literally trying to dig her teeth into him to cease the pain he was causing her.

“How savage. Do you not enjoy it raw?” His voice dragged, a slight growl accompanying his words. He pressed his hips inwards, pinning her against the wall as he removed his hands from her thighs. His fingers clawed into hair, pulling her to stare him in eye, something she had avoided the entire time. “Perhaps you do not recall how to properly service me? I would not blame you. What you went through  _ was _ quite traumatic. However, you had no issues taking me in the past.”

“You and I… we’ve never done anything like this before! I would never do anything you’re implying, you bastard!” She recoiled, anger flaring and her limbs shook from frustration and pain.

“Oh, my pet, I do not feel like fighting with you when I am so aroused.” He sighed, as if only slightly annoyed with her. And yet, his eyes glared a hole into her as he reached into the back pocket of his slacks. She questioned his suspicious movement, but within a moment, a pain so sharp rattled her skull that she couldn’t even conjure a scream. A smile spread across Zenos’ lips; a smug, knowing grin that mocked her. Her eyes fought to focus and the last thing she saw before she spiraled into the abyss of unconsciousness were his cruel blue eyes.

A flash of light, a dream-like image burned its way into her mind, demanding to be seen. It was just voices, however. Muffled voices and a blurry memory of being in substantial pain.

“Aulus, I trust you won’t kill her.”

“Implanting a neurolink is a fairly simple procedure, Your Highness.”

“Would I be able to influence her memories with the Resonance?”

“You could try. Someone as powerful in the Resonance as you... It is not out of the question. I would err on the side of caution, however. If you break her mind, what use would she be to us? To you?”

The voices pieced together, like a patchwork of mutated sounds and then colors. She felt nauseous, dizzy, and in a moment, she found a smeared, bloody world in front of her. Her hands held out before her looked distorted, and she could feel the warm dripping of her own essence staining her face. She was just about to reach up before she realized she was strapped to that accursed metal table. Her wrists and ankles were bound, and while she could think to speak, no words came.

Her eyes darted up, burned from the dripping of blood into her eyelashes. A harsh scraping against her head triggered nausea again. Her mind burned in a sharp pulsating pain. And again, Aulus’ voice echoed quietly in her mind.

“Oh my, you are not supposed to be awake.” He leaned over to hook a mask back over her mouth and nose. With the twist of the nozzle, her world faded, but not before noticing just how much red stained the midlander’s coat.  

She awoke with a gasp, her eyes darting around the room, making sure she was not on that surgical table. No, she was on a large bed, lying in plush blankets. Yet it was no comfort. Every limb shook in a fear like none other she had ever known. Was that another nightmare? Or…

Distantly she heard Zenos’ voice, but she only focused on her own fingers as they sought her hairline. Fingertips traced shakily over her scalp, searching. Her eyes widened in alarm, in terror, as she felt a raised edge, as if her skin had been sewn back together. She pulled on her hair, releasing a guttural cry akin to an animal.

Zenos moved to her side, a warm towel in his hand. She fought him as he leaned over her, kicking and punching at him.

“Stop that, girl.” His voice was calming, enchanting.

“You bastard! You mutilated me! What did you do to my mind?” Tears streamed hot down her cheeks, her lips quivering.

“I did no such thing.” He wiped at her eyes with the towel before moving to caress her whole face with it. “You passed out in front of the elevator. I had to carry you down.”

“W-why then do I have a scar on my head?”

“You cracked your head on the stone while we were fighting in the throne room. A hard fall too.” He sat on the edge of the bed, glancing her face over. His look of concern for her didn’t go unnoticed and all of the tension in her body melted away. “Come here.”

Suddenly and without warning, he had laid her head in his lap, on the towel. Both it and Zenos himself were so warm and for a moment, both were soft as well. He traced the line of her jaw up to her ear tenderly, glancing his fingers through her hair. His other hand rested gently on her side. She laid there, upon his lap, for who knows how long, soaking up his affection. She never thought him capable of such gentle touches, yet here he was.

Until a knock came on the door and he quietly prompted her to allow him to answer it. The Warrior did so, but not without hesitation, knowing such instances may be rare. However, he returned to her after but a moment, carrying a bowl of soup.

“You need to regain your strength. You are of little use to me if you cannot even fight.” He smiled, his words stressed in just the way to make it seem as if he were joking with her. She tilted her head, eyes watching his face, checking to see if this moment were real or a dream. It did not seem fake, but she also knew him as someone with nothing but violence in his heart. Where had this tenderness, this beautiful gentility sprung from?

As he sat back on the edge of the bed, spoon in hand, she pondered. Was it possible for a man to change for love? Or was it more likely that a man would hide his true motives under silk-wrapped niceties?

What is fake and what is real? The ever blurring line between the two a startling reminder that even the most absurd events could be entirely true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Should one submit when there is no other choice, or die knowing you will never be free? What is your choice, Warrior of Light? 
> 
> ...or do you even have the free-will to make your own decisions any longer? Just a dog on a leash... pathetic."


End file.
